


Stargazer

by isnt_it_pretty



Category: Cowboy Bebop (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I think not, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Its Cowboy Bebop so there's gonna be drinking and smoking, Platonic Relationships, Spike is a really terrible parent, Syndicate Era (Cowboy Bebop), but is he any worse than Ed raising herself in canon?, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28895211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isnt_it_pretty/pseuds/isnt_it_pretty
Summary: Françoise Appledelhi-Spiegel, or Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivruski IV, as she demands to be called, is six years old when her father abandons her at a Martian Daycare Centre. Social services does the only thing that they can and call the other name listed on her file; her estranged uncle.Spike Spiegel doesn’t like kids — hell, he didn’t even like them when he was one. That being said, he isn’t going to leave his niece to be raised by foster care or the streets the same way he and his late sister were.A twenty year old enforcer for a powerful syndicate, and a six year old computer genius. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Ed & Spike Spiegel
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Stargazer

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! This is my newest fic, and my first for Cowboy Bebop. It's partly inspired by [Young Blood Remix by ShadowcrestNightingale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385597/chapters/66926641), a fic where Jet basically adopts child Spike.
> 
> I have a Spotify playlist that I will be updating along with the chapters, so that you can listen to the songs that the titles are. You can find that [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3N0Xvaac8EuMz0Ym9Vp1xR?si=yUngMJFQRdyO6f58cp1fDQ). This first chapter is called Help I'm Alive, which is a popular song by the Canadian band Metric.
> 
> Please note that this fic isn't all set at the same time. It will be made up of several small story arcs, spanning the four years before Spike leaves the Red Dragons. This first chapter is more of a prologue to introduce some of the characters, and overarching conflict. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, follow me on [ Tumblr! ](https://isnt-it-pretty.tumblr.com/)

Spike hasn’t spoken to his older sister in nine years. The last he saw of Violet Spiegel, she was seventeen years old and packing her beat up pink bag full of the few possessions she owned. He sat silently at the time, eleven and just as scared as she was. He wanted to ask her to take him with her, but he couldn’t find his voice. In hindsight — the kind only maturity and adulthood can offer — Spike knows why she left him there. Violet was afraid, she ran on impulse with the deep seated knowledge that if she stayed, she'd die. Moreover, while Spike loved his sister, they were never all that close — he would have just slowed her down.

The window creaked as she opened it, and they both froze. Violet hadn’t looked at Spike at all that evening, but she did then. If she was caught, they’d both pay the price. One heartbeat, two, _three_ — the only sound was the low mumble of the TV that had permeated the air all night, and their own scared breathing. Nothing. Their father must have been passed out drunk again.

Violet took one last look around the room, probably double checking she didn’t forget anything. Spike felt her eyes land on him again — focusing on his worn out clothes, matted hair, and the rings of fresh bruises circling his shoulder and wrist. She hesitated for a moment, and Spike thought she was going to tell him goodbye, apologize — say she loved him, _anything,_ but she didn’t. Instead, Violet levered herself out of the window, hit the overgrown, yellowed grass with a soft _thump,_ and took off into the dark streets of Thrasis.

That was that. The closest person Spike had to a family was gone. He didn’t stick around much longer either. Nine months and a broken collarbone later, Spike was twelve and living on the streets. It wasn’t like there was any food in his house anyway, so the only difference between being there or not was the four walls that kept the wind out, and a monster that could snap at any moment. Being alone was better.

Spike’s father apparently died about two years later. He passed out drunk and just never woke up. Spike supposed that whoever found the body just decided that looking for him or Violet was too much work, and left them to their respective fates. He didn’t find out about his father until he joined the Red Dragons at sixteen, but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. 

If Spike is completely honest — a feat that rarely happens nowadays — he probably wouldn’t have survived nearly as long as he did without Annie. She used to leave food out for him, when she had first realized somebody was eating the expired goods from her shop out of the trash. Eventually, she managed to get close enough to talk to him, and then coaxed him into the shop — and the apartment above — for a meal and shower, or a warm place to crash. She’d been the one to introduce him to Mao, three years after they met. Spike had joined The Red Dragons only a few months later. 

Now, Spike wishes he were sitting with her, drinking some of her cheap whiskey. Anything would be better than staring at the six year old girl sitting in front of him. 

Françoise Appledelhi-Spiegel, her name is. Violet’s daughter — and what a surprise that was, both to find out Violet is dead, _and_ that she had a kid. Françoise was left behind in an Alba City Daycare, where they eventually contacted the joke that passes for social services on Mars, and they contacted him. Must’ve done a real thorough job to decide that a syndicate enforcer is a good place for her to go, but he wasn’t about to complain about somebody _not_ looking into his shit. Or, well, maybe he’d complain a little bit, since now there is a _six year old girl_ sitting on the beat up couch he found in the trash a couple years prior.

Fuck. Spike is not cut out to care for a kid, even one that seems as low maintenance as Françoise. Who was the idiot who decided to name her _Françoise_ anyway? Probably the kid's deadbeat father, because it definitely wasn’t Violet. She’d always wanted to name her child Lily — after her favourite flower, Stargazer Lilies — which is apparently the kid’s middle name. Violet must have married up, considering neither she nor Spike even _have_ middle names. 

He groans, knocking his head against the plaster wall behind him. Françoise watches him, humming and kicking her feet happily as she sits otherwise unmoving on her seat. Her red hair is short and choppy — the same colour as her mother’s — while her clothes are too big on her. The backpack she had brought is tie dyed in greens and blues, and sits on the couch next to her. She clutches a plush dog in her hands. 

“So, uh, Françoise,” Spike begins, taking a deep breath. He can do this. It's just until her dad gets back from... wherever he went. “Are you, uh, hungry? Or something?” He hasn’t had to deal with kids before, something he has been endlessly thankful for in the time leading up to this moment. Now though, he wishes he had the opportunity to know what the hell kids are interested in, or need. 

“That isn’t my name,” she says, shaking her head while making the dog dance in her hands. She's humming a tune that Spike doesn’t recognize.

Spike blinks. Françoise smiles brightly. It looks so fucking _earnest_ it practically hurts to see. Most of the people he deals with nowadays have the look of professional killer - dead eyed or crazed. That, or the terrified faces of his marks.

“Uh. Okay. Then what _is_ your name?” He asks. Maybe there’s been some kind of mistake? But no, this kid looks like Violet, Spike is sure of that.

“Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivruski the Fourth!” She throws her arms out as she says it, letting the dog dangle from where she’s holding its arm in her right hand. “Ed named herself,” she sounds proud.

Is this normal for six year olds? Spike has no idea. He can’t really remember being that age, and the few things he _can_ recall are blurred by time and fear. What was it people always say about children? Pick and choose your battles? “Sure, whatever kid. Ed it is."

And that's that.

* * *

The longer this goes on, the more convinced Spike is that Ed’s — yes, he's still calling her Ed, because he does not have the energy or care to call her _Françoise_ — father isn’t coming back. She’s been with him seven weeks now, and there’s been no word on the man. The workers at the daycare were apparently told that if he came back, to contact local police or social services, so they could reunite the pair. That was why Spike agreed, hell that was why _Mao_ agreed. It’s supposed to be temporary. Enforcers don't generally have families like this; it’s never good to have such an obvious weakness, but Spike isn’t about to leave his niece to the streets at _six._ And foster care? What a joke. He'd been in and out — bouncing around before ending up back with his drunk of a father — enough to know it's nothing but a check to most people. Half those kids probably end up dead or trafficked, and the rest end up criminals. No, he can't do that to Ed, even if she us annoying as all hell sometimes (most of the time).

At least she knows better than to wander. Ed trails behind Spike now, her plushie tucked against her body by her arm, as her hands are full of a gaming system. The kid _loves_ technology — it makes it easy for Spike to distract her. Access to his laptop and a couple games for her Nintendo-Whatever-It-Is keeps her occupied for _hours;_ leave some food to heat up in the fridge and she’s good to be left alone all night. Probably not _ideal_ parenting, but Spike doesn’t see anybody complaining; it means he can actually get work done without worrying about her. What, is he supposed to hire a babysitter while he goes out on syndicate business? Bring her along on hits? Not-fucking-likely. 

Right now she's playing Pokemon. She's been talking about it for days, utterly enamoured with the 'cute animals.' She's playing in normal mode as she walks, rather than battling in holographic like the system allows. Spike is just thankful he doesn't have to worry about something cutting off part of the image as they move. Ed isn’t one for tantrums, but she does _not_ appreciate anything getting in the way of her games. Spike learned _that_ the hard way. 

The halls of the Red Dragon compound twist and turn, but Spike keeps a close eye on Ed. Closer than he would if they were out grocery shopping or something. He doesn’t usually bring her here, for obvious reasons, but Mao specifically asked him to bring her this time. The rational is to discuss what the next steps regaurding her will be, but Spike has a suspicion that despite everything, Mao likes the kid. She’s smart and witty, and doesn’t care what people think of her. She constantly bounces off the walls, and even though her mom is dead and her dad abandonded her, Spike has yet to see her become truly upset. It’s the kind of way of life only a kid can get away with, but its endearing. 

She’s wearing a sundress that Spike bought for her, on the advice of a very friendly sales woman at a kid’s clothing store. For the most part, when Spike shops, he wants to be in and out — no talking, no “can I help you” or “do you need anything” — that time though, he was thankful for it. Ed wasn’t keen on trying on clothes, which Spike could empathize with, but he had no idea what size she fits into. The saleswoman had taken one look at her, and handed Spike a size small dress. A large bill later, and Spike was just thankful to be finished. At least she has more than one outfit now, and several pairs of pajamas. It means Spike can go a couple weeks between loads of laundry, as is his usual routine. Besides, he is fully planning on billing her father for those clothes, _if the man ever actually shows up to reclaim his damn child._

It isn’t that Spike dislikes Ed. She’s a pretty easy kid overall. The one time he tried to tell her to go to bed she got a little frustrated, but Spike had grown up without a bedtime and he’d turned out fine, so what was the harm in letting her stay up playing video games all night? If she’s tired the next day, it's her problem. Her boundless energy difficult too, but Spike deals with it well enough - video games really help with that, although he often wakes up to her excited shouting as she passes a level or wins a match. In all honesty, Spike is a little surprised he hasn't gotten a noise complaint from his neighbours yet. 

The real challenge is feeding her. Spike isn’t a good cook, never has been, and at this rate probably never will be. He burns just about everything he makes, if it's more complicated than pressing a button. The last seven weeks, Ed has been eating toasted waffles or cereal for breakfast, noodle cups for lunch, and either take out, chicken nuggets, or microwave meals for dinner. He loathes the day she decides to get picky, and refuses to eat the few meals he _can_ manage. Maybe he’ll just let her starve if that happens.

“So it’s true,” a voice says from ahead, drawing Spike’s attention away from Ed and toward an intersection of hallways. Vicious leans against the wall, clad in his black coat. He looks as edgy as he did five years ago, all a classic dark aesthetic from a time long before either of them. Spike tries not to snort thinking about it. Vicious could insult his fashion sense all he wants, but at least Spike doesn't look like some discount mall goth.

"What's true?" Spike asks, letting his casual tone spring forth. He already has an idea what this is about, and really it was only a matter of time. Slowing to a stop, Spike pulls out a cigarette. Ed stops too, although she doesn't bother looking up to see why. He can hear the sounds from her battle from where he's standing next to her, and her tongue is stuck out of the edge of her mouth as she tilts the console slightly, as if that will help her win.

"The great Spike Spiegel has gone _soft,_ " Vicious sneers, and Spike has to try and hold himself back from growling. 

It's an insult, just as Vicious intends it to be. In a syndicate, being soft will get you killed. Enforcers pride themselves on the ability to do any job ordered, no matter how bloody or gruesome. To be unable to do that means they’re useless, a loose end just waiting to be tied up. 

It's unsurprising really, to find that there are rumours going around, but that doesn't mean he _likes_ it. There’s only a few options to deal with something like this — do something insanely stupid or dangerous, wait for somebody to attack him and prove just how _soft_ he is, or get sent out on a particularly bad mission. Spike honestly isn’t picky about which one, so long as people leave him the fuck alone after.

Instead of outright punching Vicious like Spike so desperately wants to - and has wanted to for literal _years_ \- he smiles, warm as honey. "Should tell that to Miwako," he says, referencing the only female officer in the syndicate. She outranks both of them. "Bet she'd rip your throat out." A mother of three, Miwako Itari is ruthless as she is stunning. Her eldest daughter is a world class opera singer. "'Sides,'' Spike takes a drag, "Stargazer here is family, and you know how we feel about family." The threat is heavy in his words, and Spike knows Vicious hears it. The syndicate is a family in it’s own way, and they make a point to hold loyalty above all. It’s an old holdover from the days back on Earth, when some syndicates ran by an unwritten code of honor. Few such rules remain, but the importance of family is still there, albeit to a lesser extent. It helps, of course, that The Van are all brothers. 

Vicious glares, his gaze steady. Spike doesn't back down - he never could, with Vicious. The two will push and pull one another until they snap. Knowing them, they’ll probably end up killing each other.

"Excuse us," Spike continues, putting a gentle hand on Ed's back to nudge her along. She starts moving easily, but doesn't speak until they're out of earshot. He wonders how she learned to put distance before saying anything, it isn’t a usual skill a six year old has, is it? 

"Stargazer?" She questions the nickname dropped casually from his lips. Spike has been calling her that in his head for weeks now, but he supposes he's never said it out loud before. 

"Like the flower," he explains. "You know, a stargazer lily. It's pink." He takes a drag before adding, "it was your mom's favourite. Probably where your middle name comes from."

"Stargazer," she repeats, as if tasting the way the words form on her tongue. "Ed likes it."

He huffs. It's not quite a laugh, but the amusement is there. "Good. Now come on kid, Mao wants to see us. He probably has candy for you."

“Okay!”

**Author's Note:**

> As I said, this is more of a prologue, so sorry about the sudden ending. I just really hate writing Mao, we don't really see any of his character in canon, so it makes it super hard to write. 
> 
> I want to note that this fic will be alternating POV between Ed and Spike, so even though we don't get her POV in this chapter, we will get it later.
> 
> Speaking of later, I'm finished the first chapter of the next arc, which should be about three long. I'll be posting the next chapter when the entire arc is finished. I did add the title song into the playlist though!
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed!


End file.
